Dave Porter and the Runaways: or, Last Days at Oak Hall. Stratemeyer Edward
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said Phil, with a grave shake of his head.
“Let me take the wheel now,” said Dunston Porter, quietly, and Dave slid out of the driving-seat willingly enough, for the excitement had left him somewhat limp.
Half-past six found them in Ryeport, and a few minutes later they rolled up to the National Hotel, and the girls and boys got out, while Mr. Porter took the car around to the garage. They had sent word ahead for rooms, and all soon felt at home. The girls had a fine apartment on the second floor, front, with Dunston Porter next to them, and the three boys in a big room across the hallway.
When the young people assembled in the dining-room, after brushing and washing up, a surprise awaited them. They had a table to themselves, ordered by Dunston Porter, and decorated with a big bouquet of roses and carnations. A full course dinner was served.
“Oh, this is lovely!” cried Jessie, as she caught sight of the flowers.
“Just grand, Uncle Dunston!” added Laura. And then she added, in a lower voice: “If there wasn’t such a crowd, I’d give you a big hug for this!”
“And so would I,” added Jessie.
“All right, that’s one you owe me, girls, remember that,” answered the old hunter and traveler.
They spent over an hour at the table, enjoying the bountiful spread provided, and telling stories and jokes. The boys were in their element, and kept the girls laughing almost constantly.
“We’ll be back to the grind day after to-morrow, so we had better make the best of it,” was the way Dave expressed himself.
After the meal, Dunston Porter went out to give directions concerning the touring car, and Phil accompanied him. This left our hero and Roger alone with the two girls. They sought out the hotel parlor, which they found deserted, and Dave and Jessie walked to the far end, where there was an alcove, while Roger and Laura went to the piano.
“Dave, won’t it be hard work to go back to the grind, as you call it?” questioned Jessie, as both stood looking out of the window.
“In a way, yes, but it’s what a fellow has got to expect, Jessie,” he returned. “A chap can’t get an education without working for it.”
“I trust you pass with high honors,” the girl went on, with a hopeful look into his face.
“I’ll try my best. Of course, I’ve lost some time – going to Cave Island and all that. Maybe I’ll flunk.”
“Oh, Dave, that would be – be–” Jessie could not go on.
“As soon as I get back I’m going to buckle down, and get to be a regular greasy grind, as they call ’em. I’ve made up my mind to one thing I’m afraid the others won’t like.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to cut the baseball nine, if I can. It takes too much time from our studies.”
“Won’t that be easy?”
“I don’t know. I made quite a record, you know. Maybe the crowd will insist on it that I play. Of course, I don’t want to see Oak Hall lose any games. But I guess they’ll have players enough – with all the new students coming in.”
“And if you do graduate, Dave, what then?” asked Jessie, after a pause. This question had been on her mind a long time, but she had hesitated about asking it.
“To tell the honest truth, Jessie, I don’t know,” answered Dave, very slowly. “I’ve thought and thought, but I can’t seem to hit the right thing. Your father and Professor Potts seem to think I ought to go to college, and I rather incline that way myself. But then I think of going to some technical institution, and of taking up civil engineering, or mining, or something like that. Uncle Dunston knew a young fellow who became a civil engineer and went to South America and laid out a railroad across the Andes Mountains, and he knew another young fellow who took up mining and made a big thing of a mine in Montana. That sort of thing appeals to me, and it appeals to Dad, too.”
“But it would take you so far from home, Dave!” and Jessie caught hold of his arm as she spoke, as if afraid he was going to leave that minute.
“I know it, but – er – but – would you care, Jessie?” he stammered.
“Care? Of course, I’d care!” she replied, and suddenly began to blush. “We’d all care.”
“But would you care very much?” he insisted, lowering his voice. “Because, if you would, I’d tell you something.”
“What would you tell me?” she asked.
“The young fellow who went to South America as a civil engineer took his wife with him.”
“Oh, Dave!” and for the moment Jessie turned her head away.
“If I went so far off, I’d want somebody with me, Jessie. A fellow would be awfully lonely otherwise.”
“I – I suppose that would be so.”
“If you thought enough of a fellow, would you go to South America, or Montana, or Africa with him?” And Dave looked Jessie full in the face.
“I’d go to the end of the world with him,” she answered, with sudden boldness.
Then Mr. Porter and Phil came back, and the conversation became general.
CHAPTER IV
MR. JOB HASKERS’S DOINGS
“And now for Oak Hall!”
It was Dave who uttered the words, the next morning, after a good night’s rest and an early breakfast. The big touring car had been brought around by Dunston Porter, and the young folks had climbed in and stowed away the limited baggage they carried. All felt in excellent spirits, and Dave was particularly gay. What Jessie had said the evening before, and the way she had said it, still hung in his mind. She was a splendid girl, and if it was in him to do it, he was going to make himself worthy of her. He was still young, so he did not dwell long over these things, but his regard for her was entirely proper, and likely to make him do his best in his endeavors.
Phil had asked for permission to run the car for a while and took the wheel as soon as Ryeport was left behind. The shipowner’s son knew how to handle an automobile almost as well as any of them, but he had one fault, which was, that he did not steer out of the way of sharp stones and like things calculated to bring on punctures and blow-outs.
“My, what a glorious morning!” exclaimed Laura, as they bowled along over the smooth roads.
“Couldn’t be better,” answered Roger. “Wish we were going on all day!” he added.
“So do I,” added Dave. They expected to reach Oakdale by noon, get dinner there, and then run up to the school.
“Not too fast, Phil,” warned Mr. Porter, as the shipowner’s son “let her out a bit,” as he expressed it. “You don’t know what sort of a road you’ve got beyond the turn.”
“We’ll soon be coming to some roads we know,” answered Phil. “Those we used to travel on our bicycles.”
They passed through several towns and villages. Then they reached a crossroads, and here some men and a steam roller were at work, and the road was closed. One of the workmen motioned for them to take the road on the left.
“Must be a road around,” said Dunston Porter. “It doesn’t look very good, but you can try it. Shall I take the wheel?”
“Oh, I can run the car easily enough,” answered Phil.
For half a mile they went on without trouble, through a rolling country where the scenery was very fine. Then they reached a point where the road was full of loose stones.
“Be careful!” cried Mr. Porter.
They rolled on, past a pretty farmhouse and some barns. They were just on the point of making another turn when there came a sudden bang! from under the car, and the turnout swayed to one side of the road. Phil threw out the clutch and put